When A Puppy Breaks One Heart and Heals Another

Broken Heart


It didn’t turn out as expected. Not even close.

When Rupert, our twelve-year-old Lhasa Apso, attacked me in 2016 due to neurological issues it was a traumatic time on many levels, so we knew it would be a while before we decided to get another dog. But last November we put a deposit on the first male pick of a Shih Tzu litter two towns over. Like Rupert, Henry the Shih Tzu would also be a hypoallergenic dog, so I began envisioning many years with our new pup.

I imagined the grandkids being greeted by him well into their teens and summer days when we could take him swimming in the pool, or tuck him in his special spot in our tiny house (more on that in the near future!) I’d even looked forward to watching the Daytona 500 with him in my lap (now there’s something about me I bet you didn’t know!)  🙂

We had to wait a total of eleven weeks before we could bring him home. Meanwhile, Brian and I ventured off to pet stores in search of the perfect toys. Would he prefer those shaped like animals that crinkle at the slightest touch or the red rubbery ones that gave his jaw a workout? We purchased everything he needed and perhaps a few things he didn’t like a custom-made crate cover with his name on it. After all, his name carries the influence of one of the sweetest men I’ve ever known, my granddaddy, Henry Knighton.

Finally, the day came to pick up Henry, the Shih Tzu that had stolen our heart before he was even born. Holding him for the first time was something I’d dreamed of for weeks. During our brief visits, we could only watch him play⏤no touching was allowed. He squirmed all the way home to my delight. And like any proud parent, we took his picture and announced his arrival on Facebook.

Beginning the night we brought him home, I began waking up at 2:00 am with sharp headaches. Of course, I was convinced I had a brain tumor. So when I caught a glance of the bright red splotches all over my arms and legs two days later, I started searching the Internet for a correlation between hives and brain tumors.


My allergist performed an asthma test that morning and in the end, confirmed something that left a gaping hole in my heart. I was allergic to my hypo-allergenic dog.


Henry had to be returned to the breeder and so he was—on Valentine’s Day. I was caught off guard by the tsunami of emotions that overwhelmed me for days following his departure. Could I have done anything differently? Did I miss something that should’ve alerted me not to buy a puppy? Why would God allow us to go through all those weeks anticipating his arrival only to give us three days with him?


Having experienced a miscarriage, I recall asking similar questions at the time. Certainly one does not compare to the other but when there are unfulfilled longings, the emotions are raw and the pain is tender, regardless of the why.


Three days later, with tears still flowing, I decided to post on Facebook again. Everyone had been so nice to wish us well. And honestly, I didn’t want to have to explain the situation to numerous people in the days and weeks ahead. I had no expectations from the post but within minutes, encouragement began pouring in. {Thank you!} And then I noticed it—a Facebook message waiting for me from a friend whom I’d not seen in years.


Shannon shared how her friend had been praying for a puppy for a year.



You see, it had been one year since Renee’s twelve-year-old grandson died unexpectantly. Some of her fondest memories with him included perusing the Internet for a puppy shortly before he passed away. She felt a puppy would bring healing to her broken heart. Within a few hours, Renee and her husband drove Henry to his new home. {Yep, she kept his name, which means so much to me.} Renee even texted, sharing how sorry she was for my situation but also adding, “You just can’t know how I have prayed for this puppy!”


You’re right, Renee. I couldn’t have known⏤but God did⏤and only He could have orchestrated this ending.


It’s obviously not the one we’d hoped for or planned. But I’m learning to rest in the knowledge that God is in control of everything, including his smallest of creatures.


Has God ever used something unexpected (and perhaps a little furry) to heal a hurt in your life?



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